In Memoria
by duskisdawn
Summary: It's been five years and the titans have moved on, some are married and have families, others are heroes, and a couple are battling their inner most demons as their past comes back to haunt them. Blood, marriage, babies, angst, Stockholm syndrome, implied slash, this story is not for the faint of heart. Rated M.


Okay so I'm gutted there are no good cartoons anymore. Teen Titans and Young Justice were the best and Teen Titans Go is a piece of crap, excuse those who like the show, but its jokes aren't even funny and they make a mockery out of my favourite characters. So anyway I've been planning on writing this long fic for ages, although I make a bad habit of starting fics and never writing them I will try and finish this and no pressure, reviews will give me incentive to continue.

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 _Pathetic_ Dick thought as he sipped quietly on his whisky. Those guys weren't even trying to hide the fact that they were criminals. It was as though they were proud of it. He knew Bludhaven was bad, but this was just insanity. Dick snorted into his drink as the not-so-obvious drug dealer to his right, at the far corner of the restaurant, passed a package across the table to the contractor opposite him.

Dick knew this bar well. He knew Jerry Grey, the barkeep. The man was nearing his fifties. His moustache bristle with annoyance and his gaze kept flickering to the disturbing group of drug-dealing thugs which Dick himself was eyeing. Dick had been following this operation for a few months. He was planning to infiltrate the gang tonight. He just hope he had infused enough alcohol to pull off the act. He nodded to Jerry who waved to some of his mates to head home. A few chairs scraped across the wooden floor as some, not all as it would not be subtle, left the pub, a few at a time. Dick made his hand into a fist and stood up.

"Eh over there…what was your name, Davis?" The pot-bellied man with the cigar glanced in his direction, his face placid.

"What's it to you, pretty boy?" he sneered.

"It's Richard." Dick said smoothly, sighting down next to the man, who looked bemused by his presence.

Dick knew his partner was a few blocks down. They were so close to obtaining the name of the lead man of this operation. These drug dealers were choosing vulnerable people as their victims and making money off their misery, Dick knew there was a boss of the organisation, question was, when he would find him, not who.

"Is your nickname Dick then?" The man snorted.

Dick almost sighed, but by know, he was used to dick jokes.

"I prefer Richard." Dick said smoothly, his tone reminded him of…

"Well, I'm Wade, Wade Rennox, but call me Wade, me and this lot are in charge of sector eight in the West side of town."

Dick's eyes almost widened. It was a bigger organisation than they had originally thought. West and East side.

Dick remembered not to frown, show no emotion, "You sure mate." Dick sauntered slowly over there, stumbling a little, taking his time, surveying his surroundings and noting the weapons the five men had on them: three knives, two tazers, two guns…

Dick rolled up his sleeve, and there, on his wrist, was the mark of the Black Plague. The man visibly relaxed. Dick allowed a small smirk. This was the guy.

"Ah, you looking to buy more sustenance?" The man twirled his cigar in his hand and brushed his other hand through his greasy hair.

"I want the name of your boss." Dick said. "I earned my tat, I get privileges."

The man began to laugh, the other men shifted with nerves, Dick eyed one reaching for his gun.

"Look, you know the rules, if you want to take it with the boss you go to the main warehouse at pier 27, that's where all the business is, me…" The man patted the customer he just sold his drugs to, the boy wasn't even sixteen. Dick wanted to punch the greasy hairball as the kid was already stoned from the new batch. The man continued, "I merely provide the willing customer his product. Or you can take it up with Sportsmaster, but trust me, you don't want to, hey fellas…" He nudged the kid who didn't even blink. The other men laughed. Dick's fist clenched underneath the table. He should have known… an operation this big… he should have guessed it was Sportsmaster… everything in Bludhaven was connected to the man.

Dick pretended laughed as he sat down next to the gentleman. "I see you are doing a fine job there, man." He nodded over to the kid, his inside lurched though in sympathy for him.

"Well, just got another two thousand bucks tonight, not bad heh?"

Dick smirked, he already had all the information he needed, he pressed the button on his radio in his pocket. "Well, depends if you take this into account."

Wade blinked stupidly. "What?"

Dick raised his fist. "This." And before the other men could pull out their guns Wade was flat on his face thanks to the punch Dick threw to his head. A couple of men began to fire, luckily the bar was empty now, he knew Jerry was behind the counter… _…_ Dick reminded himself as faced his attackers.

Dick dodged a couple bullets, which were poorly aimed and kicked the gun out of the guy's hand. Two other men reached for his arms, they pinned him to the table. Dick grunted as the wine glass he fell onto shattered and glass cut into his skin through his jacket. He elbowed the man on the right to the face and head-butted the guy in front. Narrowly avoiding the tazer, he jumped to the side but was greeted by a rugby tackle to the floor. _Great._ He thought bitterly. Dick's eyes widened as the heavily built man that had knocked him was about to punch him square in the face…instead, a glass bottle shattered against his attacker's bald head. Dick shoved the man to the side and stood up, only to be staring into a barrel of a gun. The pot-bellied man smirked in triumph. Dick couldn't risk disarming the man… he would breathe for a few seconds before the man pulled the trigger. The greasy hairball smirked.

"You should not have come. Sportsmaster will not be happy with your interference." Dick's stomach was cold. His heart almost stopped as Wade cocked the gun. _Was this it?_

Then the sound of police cars could be heard from the street, and four more officers ran into the bar, their guns pointed at the criminals. Wade turned to look at the street in panic. And in this moment of distraction, Dick grabbed the gun and using the man's own weight against him, flung him over and the gun skidded across the bar, just as four police officers entered the bar, their guns trained on the drug dealers. As for the kid, he was sitting quietly on the sofa, his eyes glazed, as though nothing of any consequence had just occurred in front of him tonight. Dick collapsed as pain flared from his back. The glass had obviously reopened an old wound, otherwise he would be fine. His partner, Amy Bullock, gave him her hand.

"Thanks Sandra." He said as he stood up, leaning on the bar for support. He constantly teased her about the fact that her surname was the same as Sandra Bullock, she wasn't that close off in looks either… and all the guys on the force knew that too. But she was not one to mess around with.

"I think you may just be made a detective for this Grayson." She said.

"It's Sportsmaster, it was so obvious, he's behind everything and their base of operations is in pier 27" Dick said.

"It's not that obvious, he's only become big in Bludhaven over the past couple years, it could be anyone, Luthor, Deathstroke…" Dick winced at that name.

"Luthor would never resort to something as low as this, and Joker is Batman's business." Dick said nonchalantly.

"Oh I forget that you are from Gotham, every Gothamite I meet they know everything about the world's villains." Dick smirked but then cringed as he felt warm blood trickle down his back. Yep, definitely reopened an old scar.

Amy frowned in concern. "Look Dick, I'll report back to the hospital. You should get that looked at."

"I'm fine." Dick said.

"At least go home and get some rest?" Amy insisted.

Dick nodded. "Okay, I'll see you tomorrow Sandra."

"Amy." Amy snapped. "And you to Mister Grey."

Dick rolled his eyes at that Fifty Shades of Grey reference, seriously Amy was way too into her erotic literature, and made his way out of the bar, stopping only to receive Jerry's thanks, and hailed a cab. He couldn't help but smile at how the assignment went. Being a cop was better than being a hero, in a sense that you actually got recognition for saving people, rather than some newspaper or journalist telling you that you should go home and let the police handle it. A full grin was stretched on his face when…the phone rang…he got the call that changed everything…

Dick picked up his cell. "Hello." He said, admittedly too cheerfully. Maybe it was Wally asking him to see which present he should give Artemis as his anniversary gift. Dick almost chuckled at the thought, but then his body froze as he heard the voice… the one voice he couldn't stand… the one voice that was somehow more annoying than the Jokers…

"Hello Robin."

Dick took a deep breath to calm his breathing, not wanting to alert the taxi driver. "Slade." He said through gritted teeth, earning a chuckle from the receiving end. "How did you get this number… wait… no point in asking…" he took a deep breath as he heard the other man chuckle, which sent shivers down his neck, "You've got some nerve calling me after what you put me through. What do you want?"

"I thought you were going to say, I don't go by that name anymore." Slade said, clearly amused.

"You know I'm not part of that business anymore." Dick spat into the phone, earning an odd glance from the driver. "I quit. You destroyed me."

Another deep chuckle sent Dick's blood boiling. Although the young man collected himself, taking a deep breathe, he asked,

"What do you want?"

"I need your help." Slade must be desperate. His voice sounded genuine. Dick was so close to laughing. The almighty Deathstroke needed his help!

"That must be a joke." Dick said.

"Do I ever joke?" It wasn't a rhetorical question. Dick sighed, clenching his fist that wasn't holding the phone, the man still talked to him like he was a teenager.

"I don't care, you put me through years of hell Slade, two to be exact, I will never, and I mean ever, willingly work for you, so get that in you thick skull of yours and actually get a life! I… I'm dead because of you… you…" he was so angry. How dare that monster ask him for help! How dare he when…Dick choked as memories came flooding back, he was vaguely aware of Slade's voice…

 _He was sixteen. Just a kid. His orange and black costume made it quite clear who he belonged to… as did the scar of the 'S' branded in his palm. Dick rocked back and forth on his bed, sobbing his heart out. He killed someone. He had just killed someone. He looked down, the man's blood was still on his hands. The man's name had been Timothy Reece, thirty seven, just an average lawyer but got mixed up with the wrong people… that could have been his brother Timmy ten or so years from now… oh God Bruce… what would he think of him now? He felt a presence next to him. He cried out in pain, in fear, in despair… not him… not him… Slade put an arm around his shoulders, Dick tensed immediately, his movement became robotic, like the drone he was…_

" _I'm very proud of you Dick." Slade said, there was pride in his voice._

 _That just made Dick cry harder._

Dick opened his eyes, ignoring the tear that had escaped.

"Dick are you okay?" Slade's voice asked through the phone.

"Why would you care, oh wait, you don't you don't care about my feelings…" he realised his voice was raised and he lowered his voice, the taxi driver looked a little frightened. "You don't care about anything but yourself."

There was a pause. And then. "Joe's missing."

"What?" Dick's heart thundered in his chest… Jericho was missing. How? When?

"He was last seen in California with the Titans, then no one has heard of him since… I swear you Titans…"

"I need to think…" Dick interrupted him.

"Please, think away, my son could be seconds from death whilst you are spending your time… thinking…" Slade mocked. Dick wanted to throw the phone out of the window and let it be crushed by the oncoming traffic, but he knew Slade would just find his next number… he wasn't called Deathstroke for nothing.

"Why not get Adeline involved?" Dick asked.

"She already is." Slade said.

"Why me?"

"You are most qualified."

"Bullshit."

"You love Joey like a brother- that makes you family."

"I was never part of your family Slade, stop treating me like bullcra…"

"Sir…" Dick had completely forgotten he was in a taxi. The man had stopped outside his apartment blocks, Dick sighed, he had probably been shouting.

"Sorry, there's a prat on the other end of the phone." Dick sighed as he paid the cabbie and clambered out of the taxi.

"So I'm a prat am I?" Dick whirled around and there, on the pavement leaning against a lamppost stood Slade in his civilian clothes. Dick felt anger surge within him like an uncontrollable fire.

"You are much more than that." Dick hissed. But inside, he felt like an unruly pup, being led towards its old Master once more. No… he snarled at his inner thoughts, don't think like that.

"Cute." Slade chuckled, but then nodded down to his jacket, there, in its folds, Dick could make the outline of a pistol. Great, just great. Slade's lip curled in a small smile of victory. "You are going to listen to what I have to say."

Dick almost sobbed, but his face remained neutral, he knew he didn't have any choice, and like it was five years ago, he obeyed the man and let him in his shabby apartment, closing the door behind them.

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So, there you have it, the first chapter, and there's more to come. The next couple of chapters will bring the other titans in, who will have their happy ending, and who will not. Please please please review, each one makes my day! :)


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